


Salt the ground, this day is no savior of yours

by TheFlameWars



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, At least for a bit, BAMF Pepper Potts, BAMF Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), I killed thanos myself, I promise they get better but they're just dumb at first, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Protective Bucky Barnes, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, not team Cap friendly, winter soldier tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-02-09 23:31:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18648337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFlameWars/pseuds/TheFlameWars
Summary: The ground is cold, the air is cold, and Tony doesn't quite remember just what it means to be Tony Stark anymore.The civil war itself is over, but responsibility has yet to be taken and the consequences of the Rogues actions is still very much the center of the world's attention, even worse so after Tony Stark himself is declared missing three months later.Tony doesn't quite remember what it means to be human, how it seems he keeps losing more and more details by the day, as if he can even remember which day it is anymore. Hydra was always far more deadlier and cruel in every aspect that the Ten Rings would never be, far more delicate and smarter in their craft of making weapons.Tony had already made weapons, it was high time he became a weapon himself.~~~~~A winteriron winter soldier Tony and Bucky fic post civil-war.





	1. The beginning of the end

_It’s so cold._

Dried blood chilled against the dry, bitter air, leaving nothing but the rush of blood in Tony’s ears and the distant bite of cold tracing his face. The frigid touch of metal becoming nothing but an empty comfort to him as dead silence reigned beside the Siberian wind.

 

_“Did you know.”_

_“He's my friend.” “So was I.”_

 

Blood pooled between his teeth as pain pulsed throughout his body and his lungs rattled along the collapsed metal in his chest, _oh God I can't breat-,_ barely stopping the gag from the feeling of his sternum splintering into his lungs. He felt oddly pathetic hoping, _pleading,_ to hear anything at all from FRIDAY but even denial went so far when she was as dead silent as the bunker he was trapped in. The familiar glow of the reactor lied a dull black, whatever remains splintered within his dead weight of a suit. Underneath the rapidly chilling metal surrounding him, every slight shift or breath spread the uncomfortable feeling of warm, damp blood into every crevice of metal.

_‘Broken sternum, broken ribs, concussion, punctured lungs a possibility_ ** _-ow-_** _okay definitely_ ** _,_** _internal bleeding, god, go_ ** _d-_** _.’_ He didn’t need FRIDAY to tell him he was undeniably, absolutely, truly fucked in every sense or meaning of the word even without the looming threat of hypothermia. Distantly, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn’t be losing this much heat this fast even without the power to his suit and while currently lying in the middle of an abandoned Hydra bunker. The minute shivering and numbness spreading throughout his limbs didn’t startle him as much as it should’ve, the draining cold leaving nothing but a single certainty.

Oh God he was going to die here wasn’t he?

 

            The absolute charity with the thought didn’t feel as cold as it should’ve, he knew there was little chance that he was escaping this in one piece as he faced America’s Golden Boy - _a fugitive, god he didn’t tell, oh Madre no, he had no right_ – and his shadow. Looking back, perhaps the final push between the bone-deep rage and betrayal was that his own mother’s murderer looked guiltier than the Steve himself. Steve Rogers, the man larger than life, the same man that shadowed his childhood and his body as he stared at the edge of burning rage in his eyes. The bitter aftertaste of grief still ran hot down the back of his throat as he scanned the rest of the empty bunker, dutifully ignoring the outlines of silver in his peripheral. Again, Tony tried to will his body into moving but the red hot pain that once only radiated turned sharp as it brought his knees down to crack unto the concrete.

            The low screech of steel across concrete was hardly noticed to Tony as time started to slip through his fingers and the adrenaline and pain that once pulsed like nervous energy instead turned to a numbing hum. Again the bunker fell into silence, he didn’t notice it before now but the quiet and the overwhelming heat had started to replace the biting cold that left Tony gasping where there had only been chilly metal before. Like being startled awake, Tony clumsily felt for the manual escape latch but couldn’t stop the cringe crawling up his spine when he felt the sticky, still warm blood pull at his body. Tony could practically feel every concise thought melt under the heat as he dragged himself across the slick floor, _wait why is it-,_ as every inch of exposed skin seemed to burn. Pulling himself up from the cool concrete, Tony could only unhappily chuckle at the small mercy of not choking on his own blood.

‘Have to appreciate the positives, even if it’s not lying in my own blood.’ The grief-filled anger from before left him only stripped down and _tired,_ exhausted in the way that Tony hated with every fiber of his being, hated that he let himself become this. Tony fumbled with his helmet, no signal; he wasn’t really surprised though as he stared at the twisted metal in his hands, he wouldn’t even be able to leave anything for Rhodey or Pepper. God neither of them knew where he even was did they? Tony let the helmet fall to the ground, the dull thud of metal echoing off concrete not even startling him as his eyes drifted closed. He was just so tired.

“… _Is that him?”_

 _“…Get the medics!_ _chertovski yego grud…”_

_“…Na samolete…”_

                                                                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                “Rhodey, it’s been a week and there’s still nothing from Tony, you and I both know he wouldn’t leave us on radio static. Did he tell you where he was going or say anything at all?” Pepper’s worried face filled the screen, still immaculately dressed but undeniably frayed as she ran a hand through her blond hair. Rhodey sighed and looked over to the bots resting in their charging stations, unable to meet her eyes.

                “No, I was still in the hospital when he left and he hardly said anything at all the entire time.” The silence somehow grew heavier as Rhodey sagged back into the metal of the wheelchair and Pepper’s lips thinned, both quiet for a moment. “Something like the Accords was always going to happen one day Pep, but Tony was caught right in the middle. He felt responsible for whatever dumbass mistakes Rogers made that ended up making 117 countries go mental over in the UN.” Anger seemed to spark in Pepper’s eyes at Rhodey’s admission and straightened herself before speaking.

                “We still have no idea where the rest of them are don’t we?” Rhodey closed his eyes and breathed, thinking about the rogues at all nearly sent him into a splitting migraine every time without fail.

“No, they’ve disappeared, off the map,” The words themselves hardly registered to Rhodey as he looked around the lab, despite it being so clearly _Tony,_ it felt lifeless, like the soul itself had been removed from every square inch. “I promise he’ll show back up, he always does, and if he doesn’t I’ll look for him myself whether or not my legs allow me, don’t worry yourself so bad Pep.” Soft laughter echoed from the other side of the screen as the anger in Pepper’s eyes melted away into a warm type of exasperation as she stared back to Rhodey. “We’ll find him, no matter what, Pep.”

“I know Rhodey, I know.”

 

Any lasting words died as the screen fizzled to black, leaving Rhodey to only stare at his own reflection and the nearly overwhelming lack of noise where the grind of machinery should’ve been, where Tony should’ve been. Phantom memories of dry heat and the bitter grind of sand underneath his fingernails felt to close for comfort, he could practically smell the soul taste of sweat and blood underneath the familiar scent of oil and day-old coffee. He lost Tony, again.

“Mr. Rhodes?” The worried tone of FRIDAY drifted through the lab as Rhodey forced himself to look up to her in acknowledgement. “There’s something I feel will help Sir, despite it being against my orders, but I feel it has reached the point where an override is necessary.” Time seemed to freeze for a brief moment before he found himself staring at the ceiling with every fiber of his attention.

“Orders? FRIDAY, Tony is missing, why haven’t you said anything?” Rhodey couldn’t help the anger that laced his voice, he didn’t know if he could’ve prevented it anyway.

“The original orders was for me to keep quiet of Sir’s intentions and whereabouts, to prevent any outside interference from either side, but I feel its… needed to give a possible location of the rogues, and Tony.” Rhodey would always marvel over how _alive_ FRIDAY was, how she could react and convey emotions just like any other human being, no matter if she was made of lines of code. How she was hesitant, but resolute to find her creator and disobey direct orders if it meant he could be found.

 

“Who.”

“Do you know just where and when exactly King T’Challa left after the fight?”    


	2. Golden Cage

Wakanda was untouchable in its beauty, with its thick forests and near blinding sunlight surrounding the steel spires that touched the bright blue African sky, untouched by pollution and the world outside. Despite it all, it only felt overwhelming for Steve, the heat, the technology, the culture, everything felt too much and not enough at the same time as he stared out to the country behind the safety of the glass. Criminals, according to 117 countries, they were criminals with very active arrest warrants in nearly every corner of the world, Steve couldn’t help the bitter taste at the back of his throat when he thought about the document. Regret wouldn’t be the word he would use when he thought of Tony, disappointment and frustration definitely, but he couldn’t quite be regretful when he wasn’t. Wakanda may have been a beautiful country, but it was still a golden cage at the end of the day, a dark dingy corner of the world they had hidden themselves in when they tried to do the right thing.

  


_“Don’t fuck with me Rogers!”_

_“Yes.”_

 

The emptiness of the palace and the space beside him only grew colder despite the evening sun painted over the stubborn crease across his face and the tight set of his shoulders in the setting twilight. They weren’t criminals, nobody would stand by and willingly sign away their rights while people suffered and died when they could actually do something, be avengers.

“Look at that window any harder and you’ll get a headache.” Barely there footsteps echoed through the empty hallway as Natasha slipped soundlessly to Steve’s side, eyes and posture deceivingly relaxed but Steve knew better. The silence stretched on, neither really wanting to break the fragile peace for a brief moment. “There’s been nothing from Tony, or Stark Industries, just quiet. I would expect a press conference or a media release at the very least, but there’s nothing.” Steve didn’t let himself think over that fact, ignoring that the last time he saw Tony was him barely conscious on the floor of a hydra bunker.

“You know how Tony is, he’ll come back to his senses and this will all blow over, you just have to let him work it out. The world needs us, whether Tony likes it or not, and he can’t just ignore that for anything.” Steve could feel the bite to his tone, how his frustration bubbled to the surface with every word and passing second that he spoke out loud despite his passive, cool exterior. Quietly, the hallway fell into silence as the air settled around them, somehow the words felt as empty as the space between the two of them and Steve couldn’t help the shaky breath before straightening. “I still want to help him, we might’ve had our differences but when he needs us I want to be there. Even with all that’s happened and been done, I feel like I owe it as a fellow avenger.” For a moment Natasha’s eyes reflected a kind of flintiness in the low light, a look which reflected off the featureless glass and onto her own calculating features.

“He doesn’t deserve it. You’re a good man Steve and I’m disappointed that Tony let his ego get in the way of that, but you don’t have to forgive him for his own mistakes.” Despite her attempt at looking approachable and soft in the low light, the undertone of something much colder as she spoke was anything but. The momentary reminder of the Black Widow went unnoticed to Steve as he stared absently at the mirror of himself, stuck between losing himself in his thoughts and the current conversation. Did he want forgiveness from Tony? Did _he_ want to forgive him? Neither were thoughts that sounded all around very pleasant to Steve, the only thing he could admit to feeling slightly regretful for was using so much force against Tony in Siberia. But that excuse was only so paper thin when he readily told himself he did it all for Bucky on a daily basis.

“The Accords forced our hands, I know Tony thought what he was doing was right and I respect him for that, but still. It doesn’t matter how much good he wanted from all of this, he was still willing to let us be controlled and manipulated at the end of the day.” Steve paused for a split second. “I hope Tony knows that, against everything.” An apology, or an explanation, Tony at least deserved that, he might not have understood him, the _rogues_ , or what he believed in during all of this but he at had to do something. Perhaps a message? Or a letter?

A twin set of footsteps echoed throughout the hallway, almost deafening as the exhausted and worn face of Sam walked through the open door. The expression of Sam’s face felt to close to his own and the realization broke whatever trance he seemed to be in as he felt heavier than ever before under both of their gazes.

“Hey, I know you guys are having your own conversation and everything but T’Challa wants all of us down in one place, right now.” A frown crossed Steve’s face only briefly, he couldn’t help but be slightly upset over the fact it took little more than a week for the king to meet with them due to the UN and his own country.

“Of course, we’ll be right down.”Natasha didn’t respond as she lost whatever soft demeanor she had to the calculating look in her eyes while Steve mustered a smile and a response in Sam’s direction. That was one thing Steve couldn’t help but be thankful for, that despite essentially being trapped in Wakanda, the country had worked wonders in smoothing over frayed nerves from the so called ‘civil war’ and the RAFT. A bitter taste at the back of his throat and an unexplainable pit in his stomach whenever he thought about the nickname soured whatever better mood he may of had. They were a _family,_ families didn’t have wars.

“C’mon Steve, let’s go.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

“All of you have been welcomed within Wakanda’s borders on my behalf until the time that you’re pardoned back to the states or any other developments within the 117 countries towards the Accords. You’ll be treated as guests upon Wakanda’s soil and I ask for you to give the same respect back during your stay, any questions?” T’Challa was nothing but dignified as every line and his very posture screamed of the royalty he was born in and now lived as his own countries king. Steve couldn’t help the nervous glance towards the Dora Milaje that lined the room; unmoving and unbothered towards the Rogues hesitance of them and almost seemed to enjoy as they were figuratively, and literally, surrounded.

Scott seemed to sweat under the intense gaze of the king while Clint and Wanda didn’t even try to hide their distrust towards the guard, constantly flinching and Steve swore he could see small wisps of red around Wanda’s fingers. Natasha and Sam seemed to be the most collected of the bunch, both respectively, wisely keeping quiet the entire time as T’Challa spoke, whether out of respect or common sense Steve didn’t know. Bucky was quiet as well, but Steve could painfully admit to himself that it wasn’t a surprise as he hardly seemed comfortable in his own body, nevertheless in a whole new country. Physically, Bucky _was_ there, of course down one arm but he was back and most importantly, safe and right next to Steve like he’d always had been. But, he didn’t _act_ like Bucky.

Steve had resolutely ignored the whispers of ‘dissociative’ and ‘severe PTSD’ from Wakanda’s board of psychologists, it had been 70 years but he was still Bucky, at the end of the day it still wasn’t his fault.

“Yeah, do you know when we’ll be going back to the states? Or has Stark said no on the matter.” Clint let the last part of his miniature rant end in an angry mutter, not even bothering to hide his contempt towards the billionaire while Wanda nodded along in agreement. None of the rogues spoke; Steve couldn’t exactly blame Clint, he did have a family after all and so did Scott, it would almost be insulting at this point if they weren’t even allowed to contact them.

“Well, considering Mr. Stark wasn’t at the last UN and Accords hearing, I’m sure his opinion won’t have any impact on your stay.” T’Challa’s eyes was slightly sharp at the edge for a brief second before smoothing over to their neutral, diplomatic expression that even Steve wasn’t quite sure if it existed at all.

“So Stark is even skipping meetings now.” A girlish and happy lit to Wanda’s voice didn’t match the slightly cruel smile across her face while learning of Stark’s absence.

“Missing? Tony is missing?” In the corner of Steve’s gaze he could see Bucky freeze and refuse to look anybody in the eye, not like he was in the first place anyway. A confusing mix of emotions bothered Steve, he knew that more than likely Tony was just soothing his own wounds in peace but undertone of something else under the surface made him sit straighter.

“Not missing, just absent. Now I’m sure we’re all done here for today, if you’ll follow the maids outside they’ll tell you the details of your stay, have a nice day.” Without sparing another glance, T’Challa rose and walked gracefully out of the room with guards on either side, focus already firmly on whatever new political matter. Impatience and frustration melded together into an pit of unease in his stomach, only coming back to himself with a soft touch on his shoulder.

“You’re not gonna let everybody leave you behind right? C’mon Spangles, I have words with you over which room I’ll get, and I already call the master.” Steve lost himself in the warm familiarity as he smiled up at the easy, joking expression on Sam’s face.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

 

T’Challa sat back with a tired sigh, the lack of anything from Stark Industries or Tony Stark himself was only starting to worry him while the Accords Council and the UN itself was growing more irritable by the day. He was a king, and while he was proud of his accomplishments of connecting Wakanda to the outside world, there was only so much he could do without the Stark name backing the document. The absolute absence of Tony Stark on the center stage bothered him more than he liked to admit, both publicly and the overwhelming _quiet_ that was just enough to be uncomfortable in private. T’Challa let a groan pass through his lips, trying futilely to will the headache that had been steadily growing over the past week and no amount of walking through Wakanda’s lush jungles had sated.

A flash of blue and an insistent ringing filled the room which T’Challa was more than willing to ignore this late if not for the shining letters of _Virginia Potts_ clearly written in clean script. With a simple click, T’Challa was welcomed to the clean-cut and defined view of Virginia Potts, every edge radiating perfect professionalism even through the screen.

“Hello Ms. Potts, how may I have the honor of seeing you this late?” T’Challa ignored the slight unnerved feeling of seeing Ms. Potts so composed; almost explicitly keeping her face blank and body near motionless.

“I’m afraid I’m only here on business, your highness.” T’Challa almost wanted to remind her that such formalities weren’t needed, but a quick glance at her eyes told him he should probably keep quiet.”You see, I’ve encountered a problem that I need your help on. Totally professional advice, of course.” A slight smile crossed her lips and T’Challa couldn’t help but admit it looked wrong in a way, almost strained.

“It would be my honor Ms. Potts, what would it be?”

“Would you know of any clues of the whereabouts of the fugitive Avengers? I’ve heard that you were one of the last people to see them before they went under the radar.” T’Challa didn’t react to the question, keeping carefully neutral to the gaze that was just a touch to sharp around the edges and eyes that followed to quick. Pepper sighed and T’Challa couldn’t help but give her a slightly regretful smile while silently wishing that it held more innocence behind it.

“Your highness, given the situation, my patience is not in great supply at the moment. So I’ll be more direct, where are the rogues.” The first sort of expression that colored Pepper’s face was something close to a cold anger as she refused to look anywhere but straight into T’Challa’s eyes. T’Challa guessed neither of them were innocent in this situation as well.

“How would I know, Ms. Potts?”

“Well, it would terribly irresponsible of you to not only let trespassers into your own country but your palace as well, your highness.” For a single second both were silent until T’Challa let himself lean back into his chair, hardly able to breathe under the weight of Pepper’s stare.

“I will not have my country be threatened, Ms. Potts.” T’Challa fixed her with an unmovable stare of his own, daring her to confirm the threat.

“No such threat has been made towards Wakanda, your highness, only the location of a few lost terrorists has been asked of.” Quiet, for a moment, then T’Challa let himself deflate as he watched Pepper’s shoulders lower. And it only felt like the beginning.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

_Tony,_

_I'm glad you're back at the compound. I don't like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself. We all need family. The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine._

Cold, so very cold. Where was everybody?

_I've been on my own since I was 18. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army. My faith's in people, I guess. Individuals. And I'm happy to say that, for the most part, they haven't let me down. Which is why I can't let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn't._

What happened?

_I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I'm sorry._

Siberia. Rogers. Barnes. Madre-

_Hopefully one day you can understand. I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you're doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do._

FRIDAY? JARVIS?

_That's all any of us should… So no matter what, I promise you, if you need us - if you need me - I'll be there._

Where was he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T'Challa: ah what a beautiful day in Wakanda while the world begins to burns and the rogues complain, pure bliss  
> Pepper: *exists*  
> T'Challa: oh no


End file.
